


Splash

by Royal_Prussian_Fox



Series: Round [5]
Category: Pocket Monsters SPECIAL | Pokemon Adventures
Genre: But I Repeat Myself, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Gold is a punk, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 11:22:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Royal_Prussian_Fox/pseuds/Royal_Prussian_Fox
Summary: Yellow goes on a fishing trip to Johto for some peace and quiet. She accidentally runs into Gold. There is no peace and quiet.





	Splash

**Author's Note:**

> A bit ago, I'd realized that I hadn't written Yellow in a while? And obviously that is a travesty that cannot be allowed to continue. Ergo, this fic. This one's set a little less than a month after the end of the GSC chapter. Nothing spoilery, though!
> 
> Comments always appreciated.

"This looks like a good spot, don't you think, Chuchu?"

Chuchu dashes up to the very edge of the grassy outcrop. She peers down at the water, rhythmically lapping against the shore, deep and blue. She squeaks her approval.

"I think so, too," Yellow tells her with a smile, and sits herself down beneath a large tree. She stretches, yawns, and leans up against its trunk. The leaves are just dense enough to provide shade, and just spotty enough to leave crescents of sunlight dappled on her clothes. The ocean spreads out wide in front of her, full and rich.

Route 32 truly lived up to its nickname — renowned among fishers as "Fisherman's Paradise." When she was younger, Fisherman Wilton had told her stories of Remoraid leaping out of the water and into his lap. Yellow had always been enraptured by his tales, but she treated that particular story with all the credulity it deserved, which was none at all. Even so, she had always wondered what Fisherman's Paradise was like in person.

Now that she was here, she had to admit that the route certainly looked the part. Route 32 was the location where the rivers from Johto's interior met the sea. Accordingly, the water was cool, but not too cool; deep, but not too deep. Full of nutrients carried down from the mountains and with a languid current, fish of all shapes and sizes schooled nearby. From Yellow's vantage point atop her grassy outcrop, she could see the ocean waves rolling gently in front of her. A spit extended out into the ocean to her right, and a maze of piers jutted out from it, where Yellow could make out perhaps a dozen fishermen ambling about, some intent on hooking something and others arguing over stories of their biggest catches.

Yellow hums. "Let's see who we make friends with today," she says, smiling, and flicks her line into the water.

An hour later, she plucks it from the water with a sigh.

"Not even a nibble, huh?"

Chuchu nuzzles up against her sympathetically.

"Thanks, Chuchu," Yellow smiles. She scratches Chuchu behind the ears. "The fish just aren't biting today."

Yellow adjusts her line and casts again. The lure plunks into the water, then bobs back up to the surface. She's slightly disappointed by how few strikes she's gotten, especially since Fisherman's Paradise is legendary. She doesn't let it bother her, though — she's spending time with Chuchu, and that's reason enough to keep fishing. Yellow yawns. Watching the lure roll along with the waves is soothing. The earth feels cool, and the warmth of the sun drapes over her. Water laps against the shore in a steady rhythm. Chuchu curls up at her side. Yellow feels her eyes drift shut.

"Hey! That's —"

"The hell, kid!"

"Sorry, old man!"

"What? _Old_? Why I —"

"He jus' took —"

"After him!"

The shouts jolt Yellow awake. She cranes her head across the water; several of the fishermen standing on the pier across from her do the same. She sees three figures sprinting toward the shore. In back are two fishermen, irate and cursing using words she hadn't heard since she was aboard the S.S. Anne. In front of them is a boy who looks about as old as Yellow. He turns his head back toward his pursuers. He sticks out his tongue.

"Gotta be faster if you wanna catch up!" he taunts them.

"You brat! Git back here!"

"Sorry, old dudes! I got places to be!" The boy reaches for a Poké Ball. A Politoed appears in a flash of light, and immediately sprays a pathway of ice away from the pier. He grins impishly. "See ya later! It's been fun!" He waves, then hops onto a skateboard and escapes down the ice path and out of Yellow's sight. The two fishermen slow to a stop, panting. One of them swears at the ice.

Chuchu chitters disapprovingly from beside Yellow.

"What was that all about?" Yellow wonders aloud. Chuchu mutters some more, then jumps into Yellow's lap. Yellow rubs Chuchu's head before casting her line back into the water. She frowns. If the fish were skittish before, the commotion probably meant they'd be hiding in every nook and cranny they could find.

Maybe Johto fish were just picky eaters. Truthfully, Yellow hadn't hooked even a single fish since she started her trip to Johto a few days ago. It was just a little disheartening — she hadn't made as many Pokémon friends as she hoped. But she wasn't unhappy. Spending time with Chuchu and being able to relax was time well spent. Fishing was something familiar, and there was something comforting about the soft flick of the line, about the damp scent of salt, about watching the lure riding atop lilting ripples of water, about the leaves that whispered in the wind. Yellow feels her eyes drift shut.

"Whoa! Is that you, Straw Hat Girl?"

Yellow yawns. Through bleary eyes, she can make out a boy in a baseball cap with explosive black hair.

"…Red?"

The boy visibly deflates. "…You don't recognize me? Man, and after all that business in Ilex Forest, too. You can't have forgotten how cool I was that entire time!"

Yellow rubs her eyes, trying to wake up. She frowns. Black hair. Baseball cap. Not Red. Ilex Forest? Straw Hat Girl?

"Gold?" Yellow ventures.

"Bingo!" Gold breaks out in a wide grin. He saunters closer and plops himself down right at Yellow's side. Their knees are touching. Chuchu grumbles and jumps from Yellow's lap. Yellow subtly scoots away. Gold doesn't seem to notice.

"Normally, I'd be pretty upset if someone didn't remember my good looks," he says, and now his smile grows so wide Yellow can almost see her reflection. "Buuuuut, since you mixed me up with Red-Senpai, I'll take it as a compliment! Especially coming from you, y'know." He winks.

"Uh. Huh?"

Gold ignores Yellow's confused stare and carries on. "Anyway, I never thought I'd see you here! What's the occasion?"

"Oh. I'm fishing." Yellow jiggles the fishing line to emphasize her point. "What are you doing here?"

Gold laughs her question off. "Do I need a reason? This is Johto, my home turf!"

"Your… turf?" Yellow wonders. "I thought you said you lived in New Bark Town? We're pretty far from there…"

"Well, sure, but I travel all over! The entire Johto region's my home — all the locals like me, no matter where I go! It's all 'cuz of my natural charm." Gold puffs his chest out and grins a cocky grin, a grin that looks just like…

"Hey, was that you earlier?" Yellow asks him. "The boy running from the fishermen? What happened?"

Gold's smile freezes over. "Huh? I — I don't got a clue what you're talking about," he chuckles nervously.

Yellow stares at him. Chuchu huffs from Yellow's side. Gold's foot twitches in the grass. He fidgets. He opens his mouth.

"The ice leads in this direction! Come on, maybe he's not too far away!"

"Oh," Yellow realizes. "That sounds like one of the fisherman from before."

"Crap!" Gold jumps upright.

"…They're probably still looking for that boy," Yellow says, mostly to herself. She turns back toward Gold, whose face looks as if it's just been dunked in a lake. "Are you all right?"

"Okay, okay, it was me!" Gold admits in a frantic whisper, eyes darting back and forth like a Rattata about to be eaten by an Arbok. "They're kinda out to get me, and being caught would be really bad!"

"Why are they after you?"

"It's because — crap!" Gold's focus finally comes to a rest on the tree Yellow is sitting against. He turns to Yellow with pleading eyes. "I was never here," he tells her, then begins clambering up the trunk.

"Huh? What? Wait!" Yellow says. A branch drops on her face. "Ow!"

"The ice ends right o'er here. He's gotta be close!"

The tree above Yellow rustles. "Remember: I'm not here!" a branch whispers.

The bushes wave apart, and two fisherman appear from between them. Their eyes glance around the overcrop, eventually settling on Yellow.

"Uh, hello," Yellow offers. She tries a smile.

The taller fisherman steps forward. His face is dark and his arms are crossed. "Hey, kid. You ain't seen a boy come by here, have ya? Got crazy black hair like it ain't seen a brush in years?"

"He took something of ours," the second fisherman explains, placing a restraining hand on his taller companion's shoulder. "And we'd really like to get it back."

Yellow hesitates. The tree branch above her rustles ominously.

"I've been fishing," she finally says. "So I haven't really paid attention if anyone came by or not."

"That's a shame," the second fisherman sighs.

"You sure?" the first fisherman presses her. His thick eyebrows furrow. "We heard ya talkin' wit' someone."

"That was… Chuchu," Yellow tries. She looks over at Chuchu. Chuchu squeaks obligingly. "Talking relaxes me while I fish. And she likes it when I talk to her."

The first fisherman stares at her skeptically.

"I suppose we have to keep looking, then," the second fisherman says. He nudges his taller companion. "We're burning daylight. He could be all the way over by the ruins already."

The first fisherman grunts. He finally turns his gaze away from Yellow. "Guess yer right. Sorry to bother ya, kid. Hope you catch the big one."

"T-thanks," Yellow says. The duo turn away, and Yellow watches their retreating backs until they vanish behind the underbrush. The brim of Yellow's hat bounces in the breeze. Then, eventually, the rustling from the fishermen fades, and all that remains is Yellow, Chuchu, and the sound of the waves.

Except —

"Aw man, you're a lifesaver, Straw Hat — whoa!"

"Gold? What are —"

There's a hastily muffled yowl like a surprised Meowth, then a flailing blur of yellow and red from above, and then — _whump_.

Yellow stares down at the ground. Below her, Gold is splayed out across the grass, limbs akimbo.

"Uh, Gold?"

Gold stares with glazed eyes at the air behind Yellow's right shoulder. Yellow self-consciously checks behind her.

"…Has anyone ever told you that your hair looks like Ninetales' fur?" he murmurs, faraway.

"Um, no? …Are you really okay?"

Gold heaves a raspy breath, then, with some effort, manages to sit upright. He slaps his cheeks, and shakes his head back and forth like a Growlithe shaking itself dry. His bangs flop across his face.

"Been through worse. A little fall like that is nothing," he proclaims.

"Are you sure?"

"Course I am! I'm too tough for that to faze me," he laughs. He winces. "Ow."

"If you say so," Yellow frowns. "So. What's going on? Why are you running from those fishermen?" Her frown deepens. "Did you really steal something from them?"

"No!" Gold protests.

Yellow examines him skeptically.

"Yes," he relents.

"Give it to me. I'm giving it back," Yellow decides.

"What? No, you can't do that!"

"Why not? Stealing is wrong. It could be important to them."

Gold snickers. "Yeah, it's important, all right."

Yellow points her fishing rod threateningly at him.

"Wait, wait, wait! It's not what you think. I have a perfectly good reason, you know!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, completely! If you knew the whole —"

A voice erupts from the bushes. "I told you he was here!"

Yellow and Gold jump apart. The two fishermen from earlier had returned. It was the taller, angry-faced one who had spoken, and he was grinning victoriously.

The second fisherman rubs the back of his head sheepishly. "Guess you were right, huh?"

"Course I wuz right!" He thumps his chest, then points accusingly at Yellow. "I din't think you were no liar, kid," he sneers. "But it don't ever hurt to double-check, and I'm sure glad I did!"

"Hey, leave her out of it!" Gold bristles, suddenly at Yellow's side. "She has nothing to do with any of this. It's me you're after, isn't it?"

"Um," Yellow says.

"You're right," the second fisherman says. "If you give back the stuff you stole, we'll go on our way. No harm, no foul."

Gold snorts. "Not on your life, pal."

"Then we gotta problem, boy." The first fisherman cracks his knuckles.

Yellow tries again. "Excuse me."

Gold cocks an eyebrow. "You wanna go?"

"Well, it's certainly not our preference, but if it's the only way…"

"I'll punch ya ta next Wednesday!"

"That confident, huh? Well, I'll tell you — "

Yellow snaps. "Will someone just tell me what's going on already?"

The trees shudder.

"Uh. Right. Okay," Gold says, looking and sounding for all the world as if he'd just seen a Magikarp sprout wings and fly. His eyebrows have become one with his hairline. "I guess, if you really wanna know," he begins, crossing his arms and eyeing the fishermen with thinly veiled disgust, "these jerks were cheating people outta their money by selling regular Poké Balls disguised as Lure Balls."

"Whaddya yappin' about?" the first fisherman snorts. "Them are Lure Balls, real as the hand in front o' yer face."

"And you stole them," the second fisherman adds.

"What was I supposed to do? Just let you keep scamming people?"

"We weren't scamming people," the second fisherman insists.

Gold rolls his eyes. "And I'm DJ Mary."

"You just took something because you thought it was fake? That doesn't seem like the right thing to do," Yellow says, her lips curling into what is, less than fifteen minutes in, a by-now familiar frown.

"Not _thought_. They're definitely fake," Gold retorts.

"Surely there's a way to tell," Yellow says.

The first fisherman scoffs. "Course there ain't. Ain't noone can tell the difference 'tween one and a real Lure Ball."

Yellow stares at the first fisherman. Two other pairs of eyes follow suit.

The first fisherman scratches his cheek. "Uh, what? I got somefin' on my face?"

"Hernan, did you hear what you just said?" the second fisherman hisses.

"Whaddya mean? I jus' said that there ain't no difference 'tween — oh."

"I can't believe you —"

"Hey, dun' look at me —"

"Yes, I _will_ —"

"It ain't my fault, y'know —"

"We could have made a mint —"

"We still made a minute, or whatever ya jus' —"

"And wasted money on unused stock —"

"Not unused yet, it ain't —"

"Yes, it is! That boy has everything! What now?"

"Whaddya think?"

The second fisherman stares at his companion for a moment. Then, by some unspoken signal, the two whirl around to face Gold and Yellow. Gold stiffens beside her.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," the second fisherman says, but reaches for a Poké Ball all the same.

"Talkin' ain't my style, anyways," the first fisherman says. He rolls his shoulders. A smirk draws itself across his face. "Why waste yer time negotiatin' when ya can jus' take it?"

"Oh, you think you can take us on?" Gold taunts. "I'd like to see you try."

"Huh? _Us_?" Yellow stammers.

"Don't think we'll take it easy on you because you're kids," the second fisherman says.

"It wouldn't be any fun if you did," Gold smirks. "You ready, Straw Hat Girl?"

"I thought you said everybody in Johto liked you!" Yellow protests.

"N-never mind that!" Gold snaps. "Awright, let's get 'em, Polibo!"

"Wait —"

"Octillery!"

"Quagsire!"

Yellow sighs and adjusts the brim of her hat. "Chuchu, are you up for a battle?" Chuchu looks just as nonplussed as Yellow feels, but scampers in front of her and joins Polibo in front of them.

"You think an Electric-type gives you the advantage? Not for long!"

A gurgling comes from Quagsire's throat.

"Chuchu, Double Team!" Yellow commands.

Illusory copies of Chuchu fan out in every direction. Quagsire startles and sprays a blast of mud from its mouth toward one of the images. The mud splashes harmlessly onto the ground. The second fisherman grunts in frustration.

"Enough ah this crap! Hit 'em wit' a Bullet Seed!" the first fisherman growls.

Octillery rears back and a flurry of seeds launch themselves from its mouth. Chuchu's copies flit out of existence one by one as the stream of seeds hurtle into them, and Polibo jumps back and forth, only narrowly managing to avoid the oncoming rush. A seed flies past Yellow and over the edge of the cape. A second one nails Gold in the stomach.

"Oof! What the —! Where does it even keep those?"

"Hahaha, lemme see ya dance!" the first fisherman jeers.

"Grr, you're asking for it! Polibo, Dynamic Punch!"

Yellow's eyes widen. "No! You'll hurt it!"

"That's kind of the point!" Gold snaps back.

"We can do this without harming the Pokémon!" Yellow says, ducking as a seed sails over her head.

"What are you talking about?" Gold demands, incredulous. "We're in a Pokémon battle right now, if you haven't noticed!"

"Pokémon are our friends, and friends shouldn't hurt each other!"

A seed flies in between them.

Gold groans. "You're killing me, Straw Hat Girl. Fine, we'll do it your way! Now what?"

"I'm thinking, okay!" Yellow focuses on the battlefield. Chuchu's doubles are disappearing by the second in the hail of seeds. Once they're gone, there's nothing to save Chuchu from a direct hit from Quagsire's Mud Shot. She has to stop the Octillery from its shooting spree.

"Ya ain't gonna attack? Ya sure talk a big game, but that's all ya got, kid!" the first fisherman chortles. "An' it shure makes my job easier! We'll have them balls back in no time!"

"Got any bright ideas?" Gold grunts, leaping to avoid a seed that nearly hit his shin.

"We have to stop that Octillery! Chuchu, Thunder Wave!"

Chuchu chirps. Her cheeks flash. Sparks of electricity dance and grow. Then, Chuchu gives a loud cry, and sticks her tail in the air like a lightning rod, launching a beam of electricity straight at Octillery. The beam goes less than a foot before fizzling out.

"Huh? What happened?"

Gold curses. "Dammit! It's the mud! That Quagsire's been spraying it everywhere!"

"Finally caught on, have you?" the second fisherman laughs.

Gold grits his teeth. "You play dirty."

"It's indubitably not as morally dubious as stealing."

"Oh yeah?" Gold challenges him. "Selling fake merch is definitely indub — indubit — uh. Whatever it is, it's wrong!"

"I ain't about to take lip from a mouthy green-'hind-the-ears kid!" the first fisherman roars. "Give that kid's Politoed an Octazooka!"

Yellow jerks her attention toward the Octillery, bracing for the attack.

Nothing happens.

"Octillery, what're ya waitin' for? Get 'im!"

Octillery looks dazed. Its head wobbles back and forth. Then it slumps over, fast asleep.

"Looks like it's enjoying a well-earned nap!" Gold preens. "Probably shouldn't stare at Polibo's stomach for so long, huh?"

"Two can play at that game, you know," the second fisherman says. His Quagsire lets out a wide yawn. Polibo yawns back.

"Aw, no, don't fall asleep on me now, buddy!" Gold pleads. Polibo yawns again, bigger this time.

Yellow yawns.

"Ack, not you too! You're not even a Pokémon!"

"I can't help it; it's a nice day," Yellow defends herself, rubbing her eyes. "A bunch of Pokémon are probably napping right now."

"You gotta be kidding me," Gold mutters. "I can't take these guys on and protect you at the same time."

"Dun' need protectin'," Yellow slurs. "Me and Chuchu, we —" She feels another yawn coming on. "We're jus' gonna sit down for a bit."

"Get with it, Straw Hat Girl! Don't just…"

Yellow nods lazily. The sun feels warm on her skin, almost like a blanket, and the breeze is cool and comforting. Gold's yelling finally quiets to a murmur, which is nice, because it was far too loud before, and Yellow would thank him if she wasn't feeling so relaxed. Her eyes droop shut.

An earsplitting screech pierces the haze, and Yellow jumps to her feet.

"I'm awake!" she yelps. The two fishermen's heads are bowed, hands covering their ears. Yellow can barely make out their complaining through the ringing in her own ears. "What was —?" she can barely hear herself say.

"Sorry about that, Straw Hat Girl!" Gold announces cheerfully from Yellow's side. He doesn't sound at all apologetic. "Polibo's Hyper Voice can pack a real punch. But seriously? How can you just —"

There's a sound like a gunshot. Chuchu yelps, and narrowly dodges an Octazooka.

Gold grimaces. "Aaaaand, I should probably mention that now the Octillery's kinda sorta awake too."

"You couldn't tell me that earlier?" Yellow says. "Chuchu, set up a Light Screen."

Chuchu presses herself to the ground. Her tail stands upright, and the telltale glimmering of the Light Screen appears in the air. Gold and Yellow take refuge behind it, just as a ball of mud hits it with a splatter. Yellow breathes a sigh of momentary relief.

"Can you put that Octillery back to sleep?" Yellow asks.

Gold shakes his head. "No can do. That Hyper Voice was all Polibo could do before he conked out." Sure enough, Polibo is collapsed on the ground behind them, asleep. Gold recalls him into his Poké Ball. "Since I don't got any other Pokémon with me, it's all up to you now! No pressure or anything."

Yellow's eyes nearly fall out of her head. "You only have one Pokémon with you?"

"Eh," Gold shrugs. "Water under the road, or whatever."

"That's not how the saying goes…"

"Details!"

"You can't hide behind there forever!" one of the fishermen calls out. A beam of light bounces away from them and into a tree. A pair of Pidgey squawk and dart out from behind the leafage.

Yellow's eyes rove around the battlefield. Behind the light screen, they're safe, if only for a few moments longer. Mud still layers the ground, which means that Electric-type moves are still useless. Quagsire and Octillery continue launching projectiles at the barrier of light. Yellow watches the mud slowly ooze down the air in front of them. They don't have much longer.

"I have an idea," Yellow announces. "But I need time."

"We don't exactly have a whole bunch of that right — yipes!" The light screen shatters. A seed knocks Gold's cap from his head. He scrambles after it, then dives behind the tree he had hidden in earlier. Another volley of seeds flies past. Yellow decides to run after him. She makes it to shelter just as a series of seeds pierce the tree bark with a staccato crack. Chuchu hops onto her shoulder, glaring at Gold.

"Can't you just sit still?" the first fisherman growls.

"They're stuck now, anyhow," the second fisherman replies. "It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"That sounds great. As long as you're not the fish," Gold grunts. He sags against the tree trunk. "And I get the feeling we're the fish."

"If only we had…" Yellow trails off. A breeze ruffles her hair. "Hey. Do you feel that?"

"My upcoming death? Yeah, I feel it all right." Gold heaves a resigned sigh.

"No, there's something… else?" Yellow says. She concentrates. The tree rocks slowly in the wind. A handful of leaves skitter to the ground. Everything seems louder and quieter all at once. There is still the constant rolling of the waves, toward and away from the shore and back again. There is still the rat-a-tat-tat of seeds blasting themselves at the tree. Underneath it all, there's a rustling; a gentle, light, almost-inaudible rustling, coming from somewhere, as though the very air feels nervous, out of place. The sensation grinds against Yellow's skin like sandpaper. The wind blows past again. Yellow grips her hat.

"Okay! I give up!"

Yellow whips her head around. Gold is standing in the field in front of the tree, his arms held up in surrender. Octillery's seed barrage against the tree has stopped, now focused entirely on Gold.

"Oi, what?" the first fisherman sputters. "You think — after all that, ya kin jus' — what, walk out here, an' jus' espect, us, _us,_ tah jus' —"

The second fisherman interrupts him. "Now, now. It may have taken this long for him to see the light, but why not take advantage of this opportunity?" He turns to Gold. "You'll give us the balls you stole, then?"

Gold nods, and grabs his backpack from his shoulders. "They're all in here. You'll have 'em. Just promise to leave Straw Hat Girl alone." He flashes a grin in Yellow's direction.

Yellow stares back at him, wide-eyed. "Is he really going to…?" she wonders aloud. Chuchu mutters nervously from her perch on Yellow's shoulder, then hops down and begins pacing behind the tree.

"Ya think yer in any spot to make demands, kid? Yer gonna —"

"That shouldn't be a problem," the second fisherman says, clapping a hand on the other fisherman's shoulder. "She didn't know what she was getting into, after all. Do we have an agreement, then?"

Gold nods. A scowl etches itself onto the first fisherman's face, but he nods too.

The wind blows again, somehow dissonant, like keys on a piano mashed at random, and Yellow feels her whole body shudder. Something is unsettled. Pokémon are agitated. Chuchu's mutterings are getting more frantic. Yellow nods to her, and she dashes off into the underbrush.

"Very well, then. Put your backpack down, then take five steps back. And stay where we can see you."

"Or Octillery'll put more holes intah ya than swiss cheese!" the first fisherman threatens.

"All right, I get it. You can have them." Gold says. He shifts the weight of his backpack in his hands. He grips the straps. Then he flings the backpack high, where it snags itself on a tree branch and dangles in the air.

Gold sticks his tongue out. "Nyeh! Did you really think I'd say something like that?" he smirks, then bolts for the tall grass.

The first fisherman's face turns red with rage. "Ya know whatta do, Octillery!"

Octillery reels back, and then it fires an Octazooka, straight at Gold's retreating back, and Gold turns his head, and his eyes widen in fear and shock, and —

It explodes in midair. Gold vanishes behind the grass.

The fisherman's face turns purple. "What the — the _hell_ was that?"

"Calm yourself, Hernan —"

"Yer tellin' me to be —"

"Look, the boy's not important! He left his backpack in the tree. All we have to do is retrieve it, and we'll come out even."

The first fisherman exhales an irritated breath. "Yer probably right, but I shure do wanna punch that kid's smug-ass face."

The second fisherman pats him on the shoulder. "You and me both. But first things first. Let's get that backpack." He looks up at the tree branch. His eyes bulge.

At the edge of the tree branch stands Chuchu, attempting to lift the backpack with her tail.

"How can that mouse lift something that heavy?" the second fisherman wonders aloud.

"Never the hell mind that! Octillery! Turn that rat intah soup!"

Octillery complies, shooting a ray of red-and-blue light from its mouth. Chuchu startles and scampers back to the tree, leaving the backpack behind. The light cleaves the branch into two. The backpack tumbles toward the ground — right into Yellow's waiting hands.

The first fisherman looks close to bursting a vein. "I swear, I done had enough of you kids! Yer gonna git it!"

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Yellow warns him.

"You ain't tellin' me what I can and cain't do!" he screams, hands gesticulating madly. "And you ain't got no Pokémon to save yer hide now! Yer done for!"

With no further warning, Octillery fires another red-and-blue beam from its mouth. It's headed straight toward Yellow — until it bounces off something invisible, and hurtles straight back at the fishermen. They and their Pokémon dive for the ground. The beam passes precariously close above their heads, then does a U-turn in midair, passing back and forth above them like a pendulum.

"What in the…?" the first fisherman manages, pressing himself as far into the mud-covered ground as he can and covering his head with his hands, like a helmet.

"Light Screens…? But when?" the second fisherman wonders.

Yellow takes a step toward them. She readjusts her grip on Gold's backpack. "You were too focused on the backpack. While you were busy trying to get it, Chuchu was busy setting up light screens all around you. They're everywhere, so unless you want to hurt yourself, I wouldn't try anything like that again," Yellow announces. The tall grass near Yellow rustles, and Chuchu emerges with a squeak. She climbs up Yellow's leg and nuzzles her cheek. "Good work, Chuchu."

"B-but! That Pikachu was in the tree! With the backpack!" the second fisherman sputters. "I _saw_ it!"

Yellow and the fishermen look toward what's left of the tree branch. Chuchu sits at its edge, entirely unbothered by the attention.

" _Two_ Pikachu?" the first fisherman grinds out.

The Chuchu on Yellow's shoulder squeaks, and the Chuchu in the tree flits out of existence entirely. The fishermen's mouths fall open like beached fish.

"The Chuchu you thought you saw was actually just a Substitute," Yellow explains. "All you cared about was the backpack. But you weren't paying enough attention to everything else. You didn't even notice that the Chuchu in the tree was a copy. It couldn't carry the backpack, even if it tried."

"Impressive…" the second fisherman mumbles.

The first fisherman manages to find his rage again. "Whaddya talkin' 'bout? Those two kids jus' made fools outta us, and that's all ya gotta say?"

"Well, objectively speaking, that was a rather sophisticated —"

"Who gives a _flying Furret_ if it was a sofa or what'er ya jus' said —"

"The word is _sophisticated_ , Hernan —"

"An' its yer fault anyways for believin' that kid —"

" _Please._ Would you have done anything —"

"Ya shoulda known that he was lyin' through them teeth —"

"And _you_ should have known not to brag about —"

"I wouldn't hafta done nuthin' if you jus' —"

A Pokémon cry, loud and agitated, erupts from the tall grass behind them. The two fishermen cut their bickering short. There's another cry, and then another, and before long, the cries become a chorus. It's impossible to tell where one ends and the next begins. The two fishermen glance at each other with nervous eyes.

"Oh. I was wondering when they'd get here," Yellow says.

"Huh? What? What's going to happen?" the second fisherman demands.

"The Poliwag and Poliwhirl are coming," Yellow tells them cheerfully, just as the stands of grass begin to rustle wildly. A Poliwag tumbles out from behind the blades of grass. Another Poliwag groggily rolls after it. A Poliwhirl appears, along with another pair of Poliwag at its feet. When the grass finally stops rustling, a small horde of Poliwag and Poliwhirl has congregated outside the tall grass, forming a ring around the stupefied fishermen and their Pokémon.

"Wha — wha?" is all the second fisherman manages to say. The first fisherman manages even less, only looking on with rippling anger.

"A lot of Pokémon nap at this time of day. Politoed's Hyper Voice from earlier probably woke a lot of them up. And since Poliwag and Poliwhirl follow the sound of a Politoed's voice, a lot of them ended up here," Yellow answers. "Poliwag and Poliwhirl sleep during the day, so they're all probably really tired. I'm sure they'd like to get back to sleep if they could."

Sure enough, one of the Poliwag has already fallen asleep right where it stands. It falls over on its side.

"So whadda we supposed to do, then?" the first fisherman growls. "Jus' — jus' sit here, and wait 'til night?"

"Well, it would be pretty mean to keep them awake when they want to be sleeping," Yellow says, and lets out a yawn herself. "And some Pokémon get really aggressive if something's upsetting them. Like not being able to sleep."

"…I can't believe this," the second fisherman mutters to himself.

"Well, ya better," the first fisherman shoots back. "'Cuz we're in this spot now 'cuz of you, and yer damn —"

The second fisherman rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes, it's always my fault. You certainly didn't do anything to provoke —"

"I had enough o' yer —"

"Shhhh!" Yellow interrupts them. The two fishermen start. They glance warily at the crowd of Poliwag and Poliwhirl. An agitated-looking Poliwhirl finally closes its eyes. One of the Poliwag rolls over in its sleep.

"Thank you for being quiet for the Pokémon, Mr. Fishermen," Yellow smiles. She presses the button on Dody's Poké Ball, and the Dodrio bursts from the device. Yellow and Chuchu hop onto Dody's back. She tests the reins. "And thank you for wishing me luck with fishing earlier. If we see each other again, we'll swap fishing stories. Okay?" Then she tugs on the reins, and Dody dashes away, leaving the two befuddled fishermen far behind with the dozens of drowsy tadpole Pokémon, and the grass and waves of Fisherman's Paradise give way to the dust and rocks that mark the rest of Route 32.

"Hey! Don't think you're leaving without me!"

Yellow yanks on the reins. Dody makes an undignified noise somewhere between choking and squawking.

Gold, perched atop a pile of rocks, doubles over in laughter. "That's — ha! I, I can't," he wheezes.

"I don't get it. What's funny?"

"Come on, that Dodrio just made a farting noise! That's the best!" Gold breathes in between laughs.

Yellow's face burns. "It's not his fault! There's nothing wrong with the way Dody sounds!"

Gold finally composes himself enough to begin climbing down. "Man, why didn't the professor write that in the Pokédex?" he asks aloud, searching for a foothold. "Or Super Serious Gal shoulda mentioned something! She musta caught one at some point. Leave it to her to forget all the cool — whoa!"

Gold's shoe slips on a slick portion of stone. For a moment, Gold balances precariously atop the rock, arms furiously windmilling in a futile attempt to remain upright. Then he begins the slow, irreversible descent toward the ground.

"Aaaaahhhh — oof!"

Chuchu makes a noise that sounds suspiciously close to laughing. Yellow urges Dody toward the boy. Gold stares up at her, eyes vacant.

"…Has anyone ever told you that your hair looks like Ninetales' fur?" Gold says, absently.

Yellow sighs. "You did. Earlier today."

Gold scrunches up his face. "Right. I did," he finally says.

Yellow stares at him a moment longer, then turns Dody around and begins the trek down the path.

"You're just gonna leave me behind? What if I broke a leg or something?" Gold's voice comes from behind her.

"You're fine," Yellow calls back.

"Okay, you got me," Gold replies, catching up to her with an unapologetic grin. He slows from a trot to a walk and falls into step next to Dody. "But my ankle _does_ hurt, you know. It would make it a whole lot easier if you let me ride on your Dodrio."

Dody plucks the hat from his head.

"Hey, give it back!" Gold demands, and leaps up to snatch his cap from Dody's beak. The head holding the cap dodges. Dody's second head pecks at Gold's forehead. A garbled noise comes from Gold's throat. Dody's third head laughs.

"Your ankle's fine," Yellow says. "You put your whole weight on it when you jumped up just now."

Gold shrugs. "Eh, it was worth a shot. I wanted to see if I could get him to make that noise again."

Yellow levels a disapproving glance his way, then shakes her head. "Dody, give him back his cap."

Dody obediently drops the cap on Gold's unruly black hair. Gold grabs it and adjusts it victoriously.

He grins at Yellow. "You're real tough, you know that?" Gold says.

Gold's bluntness catches Yellow off-guard. "Huh?" she manages.

"Oh, you know," he says offhandedly. Yellow stares at him. She doesn't know. "I mean, you came up with that whole Light Screen idea pretty fast," Gold finally elaborates.

"Well, you gave me the time I needed to do it," Yellow hedges. She forces herself to look forward. "I thought you went crazy when you gave yourself up like that."

Gold grins again. "Heheheh, that trick never gets old. I wasn't sure if you got the message, at first."

"Why didn't you tell me that's what you were going to do?"

"Where's the fun in that? And besides, it all turned out okay in the end, didn't it?"

"I guess so," Yellow says. "But still…"

"Man, how can everyone I know be such downers? You gotta get out and live a little," Gold complains. "Hey, hey! Let's go to Violet City! There's lots of stuff to do there."

Yellow hesitates. "Er, I don't know. I'm on a fishing trip, so…"

"Bo-ring. You're just as bad as Super Serious Gal."

"Super Serious Gal?" Yellow parrots.

"You know, Crys! Girl with the crazy pigtails. Kinda cute, but her idea of fun is reading Pokémon reports all day. I'd rather be locked in a room with Silver's Ursaring." He pantomimes slicing his neck.

Yellow whacks him with her fishing rod.

"Yowch! What was that for?"

"Be nice to your friends," Yellow tells him.

"Fine, jeez," Gold huffs. "So are we gonna go to Violet or not? There's a bunch of cool shops, and the street vendors are really something else. But you gotta stay away from Sprout Tower, that place is a death trap."

Yellow gently pulls on the reins. Dody stops. She watches Gold walk ahead of her, going on about how terrible Sprout Tower is. Yellow looks up at Chuchu, riding atop Yellow's shoulder, fur aglow in the setting sun. Dody's left head has started cleaning its feathers. The other two heads have turned back to look at her curiously.

"Hey, Straw Hat Girl! What's the holdup?"

Yellow starts. Gold circles back in front of her, foot tapping the ground and face screwed into an impatient frown.

"I was just thinking," Yellow answers. "I haven't caught any fish yet."

"Well, good!" Gold declares. He waits until Dody catches up, then falls into step next to him. "Violet has a couple of lakes — there's gotta be Pokémon in there somewhere. So if you really _have_ to be boring and go fishing or something, I guess we could do that instead."

Yellow nods. "Yeah. Okay."

Gold grins wide. Yellow feels a small smile creep up her face in response. "Great! I knew you'd come around, Straw Hat Girl. But as long as we hit the street fair first. No way am I sitting around watching you stare at a lake without getting any grub!"

**Author's Note:**

> Gold and Yellow would definitely wind up having the craziest adventures together.


End file.
